jPS 3515 

E3 E5 
1918 
I Copy 1 



VING SJ\a f>L/vVS NO. 4 



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fGMONT AP.tNS NtW YOHIC 



THE FLYING STAG PLAYS 

For The Little Theatre 



No. 4 



ENTER THE HERO 



Copyright, 191 6, by 
THERESA HELBURN 

COPYRIGHT, 1 9 18, BY 

EGMONT ARENS 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



The professional and amateur stage rights on 
this play are strictly reserved by the author. Ap- 
plications for permission to produce the play 
should be made to Egmont Arens, 17 West 8th 
St., New York City. 

While it is hoped that the publication of the 
plays in this series will encourage their produc- 
tion in all parts of the country, it is held that the 
interests of the New Theater movement can best 
be served by vigorous protection of the play- 
wrights, without whom the movement cannot go 
forward. 

Therefore, any infringements of the author's 
rights will be punished by the penalties imposed 
under the United States Revised Statutes, Title 
60, Chapter 3, 

The Publisher. 



ENTER THE HERO 

A Comedy in One Act by 
Theresa Helburn ^ ^ as played 
by the St. Francis Players. 



Published by EGMONT ARENS at the 

Washington Square Bookshop ^ New York 

1918 






ENTER THE HERO 

was first produced in San Francisco by the St. 
Francis Little Theatre Players, on January i6th, 
1918, with the following cast: 



Ruth Carey - - . - Ruth Hammond 

Anne Carey . . . Helene Sullivan 

Harold Lawson - - - Arthur Maitland 

Mrs. Carey - - - . . Julia Deane 



24 ibid 

0)CI.D 4 9842 



ENTER THE HERO 



The scene presents an upstairs sitting room in a 
comfortable house in a small city. The wall 
on the spectator's left is broken by a fireplace, 
and beyond that a door leading into the hall. 
At the back of the stage is a deep bay 'uiindo<ui 
from ivhich one may have a <vieiv up and 
down the street. A door in the right wall leads 
to Anne Carey's bedroom. The sitting room, 
being Anne's particular property, is feminine- 
ly furnished in chintz. A table desk with sev- 
eral drawers occupies an important place in 
the room, which is conspicuously rich in flowers. 



The curtain rises on an empty stage. Ruth Carey, 
a pretty girl of eighteen, enters hurriedly, 
carrying a large box; she wears a hat and 
coat. 



RUTH 

Oh, Anne, here's another box of flowers! Anne, 
where are you? 



6 ENTER THE HERO 

VOICE FROM ANNE'S BEDROOAl 
In here. I thought you had gone out. 

RUTH 

[Opening door left.] 
1 was just going when the expressman left 
these — and I wanted to see them. 

[Looking into the bedroom.'] 
Oh, how pretty your dress is. Turn round. 
Just adorable I May I open these? 

THE VOICE 
Yes, but hurry. It's late. 

RUTH 

[Throiving her sister a kiss.] 
You dear! It's almost like having a fiance of 
my own. Three boxes in two days! He's 
adorably extravagant. Oh, Anne, exquisite 
white roses! Come, look! 

[Anne Carey appears in the bedroom door. 
She is a girl of twenty-two. Her manner in 
this scene shows nervousness and suppressed 
excitement.] 

ANNE 
Yes, lovely. Get a bowl, Ruth. Quickly. 

RUTH 
I will. Here's a card. 

[She hands Anne a?i envelope, goes to the 

door, then stops.] 
What does he say, Anne? May I see? 

[Anne, who has read the card quickly with 

a curious little smile, hands it back to her 

without turninff.] 



THERESA HELBURN 7 

RUTH 
[Readinff."] 

"The red rose whispers of passion 
And the white rose breathes of love; 
Oh, the red rose is a falcon, 
And the white rose is a dove. 

But I send you a cream-white rosebud 
With a flush on its petal tips. 
For the love that is purest and sweetest 
Has a kiss of desire on the lips." 

Oh, how beautiful 1 Did he make that up, do 
you suppose? I didn't know he was a real poet. 

ANNE 

[Who has been pinning some of the roses 
on her dress.] 
Anyone in love is a poet. 

RUTH 

It's perfectly beautiful I 

[She takes a pencil and little notebook out 

of her pocket.] 
May I copy it in my "Harold Notebook"? 

ANNE 
Your ivhat? 

RUTH 
I call it my "Harold Notebook." I've put down 
bits of his letters that you read me, the lovery 
bits that are too beautiful to forget. Do you 
mind? 

ANNE 
You silly child! 



8 ENTER THE HERO 

RUTH 
Here, you may see it. . . . That's from the 
second letter he wrote you from Rio Janeiro. 
I just couldn't get over that letter. You know 
I made you read it to me three times. It was 
so — so delicate. I remembered this passage 
— see. "A young girl seems to me as exqui- 
site and frail as a flower, and I feel myself a 
vandal in desiring to pluck and possess one. 
Yet, Anne, your face is always before me, and 
I know now what I was too stupid to realize 
before that it was you and you only, who made 
life bearable for me last winter when I was 
a stranger and alone." Oh, Anne — 

[Sighing rapturously.^ 
that's the sort of love letters I've dreamed of 
getting. I don't suppose I ever shall. 

ANNE 
[Still looking over the notebook ivith her odd 
smile.] 
Have you shown this to anyone? 

RUTH 

Only to Caroline — in confidence. 

[Pauses to see hoiv Anne ivill take it.] 
But really, Anne, everyone knows about 
Harold. You've told Madge and Eleanor, and 
I'm sure they've told the others. They don't 
say anything to us, but they do to Caroline 
and she tells me. 

[JVatching Anne's face.] 
You're not angry are you, Anne? 

ANNE 
Yes, rather. 

[Then eagerly.] 

What do they say? 



THERESA HELBURN 9 

RUTH 
Oh, all sorts of things. Some of them horrid, 
of course! You can't blame them for being 
jealous. Here you are having just the sort 
of experience that any one of them would give 
their eye teeth to have. I'd be jealous if you 
weren't my sister. As it is, I seem to get 
some of the glory myself. 

ANNE 
[Pleased, but disparaging.] 
But every girl has this experience sooner 
or later. 

RUTH 
Oh, not in this way. Everything that Harold 
does is beautiful, ideal. Jane Fenwick showed 
me some of Bob's letters. They were so 
dull, so prosaic! All about his salary and the 
corn crop. I was disgusted with them. So 
was she, I think, when she saw Harold's 
letters. 

ANNE 
Oh, you showed them to Jane too? 

RUTH 
[A bit frightened.] 
No, really I didn't. Caroline did. I lent her 
my notebook once overnight, and she gave 
Jane a peek — in the strictest confidence. Jane 
really needed it. She was getting so cocky 
about Bob. Girl's are funny things, aren't 
they? 

ANNE 
[Who has been keenly interested in all of 
Ruth's gossip.] 
What do you mean? 



10 ENTER THE HERO 

RUTH 

It isn't so much the man, as the idea of a 
man — someone to dream about, and to talk 
about. When I think of getting engaged — 
I suppose I shall get engaged some day — I 
never think of being really, really kissed by 
a man — 

ANNE 
What do you think of? 

RUTH 
I always think of telling Caroline about it 
showing my ring to her and to Madge. Oh, 
Madge is green with envy. I believe she 
thought Harold sort of liked her. 

[Anne turns aivay.] 
She was so excited when she saw him in 
New York. She said she would have got 
off the bus and chased him, but he went into 
a house. . . 

Anne, why didn't you tell us — me, at least — 
that Harold was back from South America, 
before we heard it from Madge. 

ANNE 
Just because ... I wanted to avoid all this 
... It was hard enough to have him within a 
few hours' distance and know he could not 
get to me. But it was easier when no one 
else knew. Don't you understand? 

RUTH 
Yes dear, of course I do — but still — 

ANNE 
[Impafiently.] 
Now Ruth, it's quarter past four. You prom- 
ised — 



THERESA HELBURN 11 

RUTH 

I m going . . . right straight off . . . unless — 
Oh, Anne, mayn't I stay and have just one 
peek. I won't let him see me, and then I'll 
run straight away. 

ANNE 

Oh, for heaven's sake, don't be naughty and 

silly! Clear out now, quickly, or — 

[Changing her tone suddenly.^ 
Ruth, dear, put yourself in my place. Think 
hovi' you would feel if you were going to see 
the man you loved for the first time. That's 
what it really is. Think of it! Two years ago 
when he went away we were just the merest 
friends — and now — 

RUTH 

And now you're engaged to be married! Oh, 
isn't it the most romantic thing! Of course 
you want to be alone. Forgive me. Oh, Anne, 
how excited you must be! 

ANNE 

[With rather histrionic intensity.] 
No, I'm strangely calm. And yet Ruth, I'm 
afraid, terribly afraid. 

RUTH 
Why, what of? 

ANNE 
[Acting.] 
I don't know ... of everything ... of the 
unknown. All this has been so wonderful, if 
anything should happen I don't think I could 
bear it. I think I should die. 



12 ENTER THE HERO 



RUTH 



Nonsense, dear, what can happen? You're just 
on edge. Well, I'll be off. I'll join Mother 
ac Aunt Nellie's. Give my love to Harold. 
You know I've never called him anything but 
Mr. Lawson to his face. Isn't that funny? 
Goodbye, dear. 

[Throivinff Anne a kiss.] 
You look so sweet. 

ANNE 

[Her hands on Ruth's shoulder for an itn- 
pressive moment.] 
Goodbye, Ruth. Goodbye. 

[They kiss.] 

[Ruth goes. Left alone, a cornplete change 
comes over Anne. She drops the romantic 
attitude. She is nervously determined. She 
quickly arranges the floiuers, takes out the 
box, etc., straightens the room, and surveys 
herself rapidly in the mirror. There is a 
sound of ivheels outside. Anne goes to the 
bay viiindovj and looks out. Then she stands 
erect in the grip of an emotion that is more 
like terror than anticipation. Hearing the 
sound of footsteps on the stair she is panic- 
stricken and about to bolt, but at the sound 
of voices she pulls herself together and stands 
motionless.] 

MAN'S VOICE 
[Outside.] 
In here? All right! 

[Harold Laivson enters, a ivell set up, bronzed, 
rather commonplace young man of about tiven- 
ty-eight. He sees no one on his entry, but 
as he advances into the room, Anne comes 
down from the bay ivindoiv.] 



THERESA HELBURN 13 

HAROLD 

Hello, Miss Carey, how are you? Splendid to 
see you again, after all this time. 

[Anne looks at him icithout speaking, luhich 
slightly embarrasses him.] 
You're looking fine. How's your mother — 
and little Ruth? 



ANNE 



[Slowly.] 
Welcome home. 



HAROLD 

Oh, thanks. It's rather nice to be back in 
God's country. But it's not for long this time. 

ANNE 

Are you going away again? 

HAROLD 

Yes. I've another appointment. This one in 
India, some big salt mines. Not bad, eh? I 
made pretty good in Brazil, they tell me. 

ANNE 
[Nervously.] 
Sit down. 

HAROLD 

Thanks. Hot for September, isn't it? Though 
I ought to be used to heat by this time. Some- 
times the thermometer would run a hundred 
and eight for a week on end. Not much fun, 
that. 

ANNE 
No, indeed. 



14 ENTER THE HERO 

HAROLD 

[Settling back comfortably to talk about him- 
self.] 
You know I loathed it down there at first. What 
with all the foreigners and the rotten weather 
and the bugs — thought I'd never get into the 
swing. Wanted to chuck engineering for any 
old job that was cool, but after a while — 

ANNE 

How long have you been home? 

HAROLD 

About three weeks. I'd really been meaning 
to come out here and have a look round my old 
haunts, but there was busines in New York, 
and I had to go South and see my family — 
you know how time flies. Then your note 
came. It was mighty jolly of you to ask me 
out here. By the way, how did you know I 
was back? 

ANNE 
[After a pause.] 
Madge Kennedy caught sight of you in New 
York. 

HAROLD 

Did she really? How is little Madge? And 
that odd brother of hers. Is he just as much 
of a fool as ever? I remember once he said 
to me — 

ANNE 

Oh, I didn't ask you here to talk about Madge 
FTennedy's family. 



THERESA HELBURN 15 

HAROLD 
[Taken aback.] 
No . . no, of course not. I — er — I've been 
wondering just why you did ask me. You said 
you wanted to talk to me about something. 

ANNE 
[Gently.] 
Weren't you glad to come? 

HAROLD 
Why, of course I was. Of course. And then 
your note fired my curiosity — your asking me 
to come straight to you before seeing anyone 
else. 

ANNE 
Aren't you glad to be here with me? 

HAROLD 
Why surely, of course, but — 
[Pause.] 

ANNE 
You see, people seemed to expect you would 
come to see me first of all. I rather expected 
it myself. Don't you understand? 

HAROLD 
[Very uncomfortable.] 
No . . . I'm afraid I don't . . . 

ANNE 
From the way you acted before you went 
away I thought you, yourself, would want to 
see me first of all. 

HAROLD 
Before I went away? What do you mean? 



16 ENTER THE HERO 

ANNE 
You know well enough what I mean. The 
parties those last weeks — the theater we went 
to — the beautiful flowers you sent Mother — 
the letter — 

HAROLD 

But — but — why, I was going away. You and 
your people had been awfully nice to me, a 
perfect stranger in town. I was simply trying 
to do the decent thing. Good Lord I You 
don't mean to say you thought — 

ANNE 
[Watching him 'very closely. \ 
Yes, it's true, I thought — and everyone else 
thought — I've been waiting these two years 
for you to come back. 

[She drops her face into her hands. Her 
shoulders shake.] 

HAROLD 
[Jumping up.] 
Great Heavens! I never imagined — Why, Miss 
Carey, I — oh, I'm terribly sorry! 

[She continues to sob]. 
Please don't do that — please! I'd better go 
away — I'll clear out — I'll go straight off to 
India — I'll never bother you again. 

[He has seized his hat, and is making, in a 
bewildered ivay, for the door, ivhen she in- . 
tercepts him.] 

ANNE 
No. You mustn't go away! 

HAROLD 

But what can I do? 



THERESA HELBURN 17 

ANNE 

[Striking a tragic attitude. } 
You mean to say you don't care at all — that 
you have never cared? 

HAROLD 
Really, Miss Carey, I — 

ANNE 
For heaven's sake, don't call me Miss Carey. 
Call me Anne. 

HAROLD 
Miss Carey . . . Anne . . . I . . . Oh, you'd 
better let me go — let me get away before any- 
one knows I'm here — before they think — 

ANNE 
It's too late. They think already. 

HAROLD 
Think what? What do you mean? 

ANNE 
Oh, this is terrible! Sit down, Harold, and 
listen to me. 

[She pushes him into a chair and begins to 
talk 'very rapidly, njjatching intently the ef- 
fect of her ivords upon him.] 
You see, when you went away, people began 
to say things about us — you and me — about 
your caring. I let them go on. In fact I be- 
lieved them. I suppose it was because I want- 
ed so much to believe them. Oh, what a fool 
I've been! What a fool! 

[She covers her face ivith her hands. He 
gets up intending vaguely to comfort her, 
but she thinks he is making another move to 
go, and jumps to her feet.] 



18 ENTER THE HERO 

And now you want to clear out like a thief 
in the night, and leave me to be laughed at! 
>Jo, no, you can't do that! You must help 
me. You've hurt me to the very soul. You 
mustn't humiliate me before the world. 

HAROLD 
I'll do anything I can, Aliss Carey. 

ANNE 
Anne! 

HAROLD 
Anne, I mean. But how? 

ANNE 
[After a moment's thought, as if the idea had 
just come to her.] 
You must stay here. You must pretend for a 
few days — for a week at most, that we're en- 
gaged. 

HAROLD 
I can't do that you know. Really, I can't. 

ANNE 
[Going to him.] 
Why not? Only a little while. Then you'll 
go away to India. We'll find it's been a mis- 
take. I'll break it off, — it will only be a pre- 
tence, of course, but at least no one will know 
what a fool I've been. 

HAROLD 
[After a moment's hesitation.] 
Miss Carey — Anne, I mean, I'll do anything I 
can, but not that! A man can't do that. You 
see, there's a girl, an English girl, down in 
Brazil, I— 



THERESA HELBURN 19 

ANNE 
Oh, a girll Another! Well, after all, what 
does that matter? Brazil is a long way off. 
She need never know. 

HAROLD 

She might hear. You can't keep things like 
this hid. No. I wouldn't risk that. You'd 
better let me clear out before your family gets 
home. No one need ever know I've been here. 
{Again he makes a move ioivard the door. 
Anne stands motionless.] 

ANNE 
You can't go. You can't. It's more serious 
than you imagine. 

HAROLD 
Serious? What do you mean? 

ANNE 
Come here. 

[He obeys. She sits in a big chair, hut avoids 

looking at him. There is a delicate imitation 

of a tragic actress in the way she tells her 

story.] 

I wonder if I can make you understand? It 

means so much to me that you should — so 

much! Harold, you know how dull life is here 

in this little town. You were glad enough 

to get away after a year of it, weren't you? 

Well, it's worse for a girl, with nothing to do 

but sit at home — and dream — of you. Yes, 

that's what I did, until, at last, when I couldn't 

stand it any longer, I wrote you. 

HAROLD 
[Quickly.] 
I never got the letter, Miss Carey. Honor 
bright, I didn't. 



20 ENTER THE HERO 

ANNE 
Perhaps not, but you answered it. 

HAROLD 

Answered it? What are you talking about? 

ANNE 
Would you like to see your answer? 

[S/ie goes to the desk, takes a packet of let. 
ters out of a drawer, selects one, and hands 
it to him.] 
Here it is — your answer. You see it's post- 
marked Rio Janeiro. 

HAROLD 

[Taking it ivo?ideringly.] 
This does look like my writing. 

[Reads.] 
"Anne, my darling — " I say, what does this 
mean? 

ANNE 
Go on. 

HAROLD 
[Reading.] 
"I have your wonderful letter. It came to me 
like rain in the desert. Can it be true, Anne, 
that you do care? I ask myself a hundred 
times what I have done to deserve this. A 
young girl seems to me as exquisite and frail 
as a flower — " Great Scott! You don't think 
/ could have written such stuff! What in the 
world! 

ANNE 
[Handing over another letter.] 
Here's the next letter you wrote me, from the 
mine. It's a beautiful one. Read it. 



THERESA HELBURN 21 

HAROLD 
[Tears it open angrily, and reads.] 
"I have been out in the night under the stars. 
Oh, that you were here, my beloved! It is 
easy to stand the dust and the turmoil of the 
mine without you, but beauty that I cannot 
share with you hurts me like a pain — " 

[He throws the letter on the table and turns 
toward her, speechless.] 

ANNE 
[Inexorably.] 
Yes, that's an exceptionally beautiful one. But 
there are more — lots more. Would you like to 
see them? 

HAROLD 
But I tell you, I never wrote them. These 
aren't my letters. 

ANNE 
Whose are they, then? 

HAROLD 
[JValking up and doivn furiously.] 
God knows! This is some outrageous trick. 
You've been duped, you poor child. But we'll 
get to the bottom of this. Just leave it to me. 
I'll get detectives. I'll find out who's back of 
it! I'll— 

[He comes face to face with her and finds her 
looking quietly at him with something akin 
to critical interest.] 

HAROLD 
Good Lord. What's the matter with me! 
You don't believe those letters. You couldn't 
think I wrote them, or you wouldn't have met 



22 ENTER THE HERO 

me as you did, quite naturally, as an old friend. 
You understand/ For heaven's sake, make it 
clear to me I 

ANNE 
I am trying to ... I told you there had to 
be . . . answers ... I was afraid to send my 
letters to you, but there had to be answers. 

[Harold stares at fier.] 
So I wrote them myself. 

HAROLD 
You wrote them yourself? ! ? 

ANNE 
Yes. 

HAROLD 
These? These very letters? 

ANNE 
Yes. I had to. 

HAROLD 
Good God! 

[He gazes at the litter of letters on the desk 
in stupefied silence.] 
But the handwriting 

ANNE 
Oh, that was easy. I had the letter you wrote 
to Mother. 

HAROLD 

And you learned to imitate my handwriting? 

ANNE 
[Politely.] 
It was very good writing. 



THERESA HELBURN 23 

HAROLD 
[In sudden apprehension.] 
No one has seen these things, — have they? 

ANNE 
They arrived by mail. 

HAROLD 

You mean people saw the envelopes. Yes. 
that's bad enough . , . But you haven't shown 
them to anyone? 

[At her silence he turns furiously upon her.] 
Have you? . . . Have you? 

ANNE 
[Who enjoys her ansiver and its effect upon 
him.] 
Only parts — never a whole letter. But it was 
such a pleasure to be able to talk about you 
to someone. My only pleasure. 

HAROLD 
Good heavens! You told people I wrote these 
letters? That we were engaged? 

ANNE 
I didn't mean to, Harold. Really, I didn't. 
But I couldn't keep it dark. There were your 
telegrams. 

HAROLD 

My telegrams? ! ? 

[She goes to desk and produces a bundle of 
despatches.] 

ANNE 
[Brazen in her sincerity.] 
You used to wire me every time you changed 



24 ENTER THE HERO 

your address. You were very thoughtful, 
Harold. But, of course, I couldn't keep those 
secret like your letters. 

HAROLD 

[Standing helplessly, with the telegrams loose 
in his fingers.] 
My telegrams! Good Lord! 
[He opens one and reads.] 
"Leaving Rio for fortnight of inspection in 
interior. Address care Senor Miguel — " My 
telegrams! 

[He flings the packet violently on the table, 
thereby almost upsetting a boivl of roses 
ivhich he hastens to preser've.] 

ANNE 
And then there were your flowers. I see you 
are admiring them. 

[Harold •withdraius as if the floivers were 
charged with electricity.] 

HAROLD 
What flowers? 

ANNE 
These — these — all of them. You sent me flow- 
ers every week while you were gone. 

HAROLD 
[Overcome.] 
Good God! 

[He has now reached the apex of his amaze- 
ment and becomes sardonic] 

ANNE 
Yes. You were extravagant with flowers, 
Harold. Of course I love them, but I had to 
scold you about spending so much money. 



THERESA HELBURN 25 

HAROLD 

spending so much money? And what did I 
say when you scolded me? 

ANNE 
[Taken aback only for a moment by his 
changed attitude.^ 
You sent me a bigger bunch than ever before 
— and — wait a minute — here's the card you put 
in it. 

[She goes to the same fatal desk and pro- 
duces a package of florist's cards.] 

HAROLD 

Are all those my cards too ? 

ANNE 
Yes. 

HAROLD 

[Laughing a bit ivildly.] 
I'm afraid I ivas a bit extravagant 1 

ANNE 
Here's the one! You wrote: "H all that I 
have, and all that I am, is too little to lay be- 
fore you, how can these poor flowers be 
much?" 

HAROLD 

I wrote that? Very pretty — very. I'd forgot- 
ten I had any such knack at sentiments, 

ANNE 
And then, right away, you sent me the ring. 

HAROLD 

[Jumps, startled out of his sardonic pose.] 
Ringl What ring? 



26 ENTER THE HERO 

ANNE 
My engagement ring. You really were very 
extravagant that time, Harold. 

HAROLD 
[Looking fearfully at her hands.] 
But I don't see . . . You're not wearing . . ? 

ANNE 
Not there — here, next to my heart. 

[She takes out a ring ivhich hangs on a chain 
inside her frock, and presses it to her lips. 
Looking at him deeply.] 
I adore sapphires, Harold. 

[A new fear comes into Harold's eyes. He 
begins to humor her.] 

HAROLD 
Yes. Yes. Of course. Everyone likes sap- 
phires, Anne. It is a beauty. Yes. 

[He comes very close to her, and speaks very 
gently, as if to a child.] 
You haven't shown your ring to anyone, have 
you, Anne? 

ANNE 
Only to a few people — One or two. 

HAROLD 

A few people! Good heavens! 

[Then he controls himself, takes her hands 
gently in his, and continues speaking, as if to 
a child.] 

Sit down, Anne; we must talk this over a little, 

— very quietly, you understand, very quietly. 

Now to begin with, when did you first — 

ANNE 
[Breaks a<way from him with a little laugh.] 
No, I'm not crazy. Don't be worried, I'm 



THERESA HELBURN 27 

perfectly sane. I had to tell you all this to 
show how serious it was. Now you know. 
What are you going to do? 

HAROLD 
Do? 

[He sloivly straightens up as if the knoivledffe 
of her sanity had relieved him of a heavy 
load.] 
I'm going to take the next train back to New 
York. 

ANNE 
And leave me to get out of this before people 
all alone? 

HAROLD 
You got into it without my assistance, didn't 
you? Great Scott, you forged those letters 
in cold blood — 

ANNE 
Not in cold blood, Harold. Remember, I 
cared. 

HAROLD 
I don't believe it. 

[Accusingly.] 
You enjoyed writing those letters! 

ANNE 
Of course I enjoyed it. It meant thinking of 
you, talking of — 

HAROLD 
Rot! Not of me, really. You don't think I 
am really the sort of person who could write 
that— that drivel! 

ANNE 
[Hurt.] 
Oh, I don't know. After a while I suppose 
you and my dream got confused. 



28 ENTER THE HERO 

HAROLD 
But it was the rankest — 

ANNE 

Oh, I'm not so different from other girls. 
We're all like that. 

[Repeating Ruth's phrase re minis cently.'\ 
We must have someone to dream about — to 
talk about. I suppose it's because we haven't 
enough to do. And then we don't have any — 
any real adventures like — shop girls. 

HAROLD 
[Surprised at this bit of reality.^ 
That's a funny thing to say! 

ANNE 
Well, it's true. I know I went rather far. 
After I got started I couldn't stop. I didn't 
want to, either. It took hold of me. So I 
went on and on and let people think whatever 
they wanted. But if you go now and people 
find out what I've done, they'll think I'm really 
mad — or something worse. Life will be im- 
possible for me here, don't you see — impossible. 

[Harold is silent.] 
But if you stay, it will be so easy. Just a day 
or two. Then you will have to go to India. 
Is that much to ask? 

[Acting.] 
And you save me from disgrace, from ruin! 

[Harold remains silent, troubled.] 

ANNE 

[Becoming impassioned.] 

You must help me. You must. After I've been 

so frank with you, you can't go back on me 

now. I've never in my life talked to anyone 



THERESA HELBURN 29 

like this — so openly. You can't go back on nie! 
If you leave me here to be laughed at, mocked 
at by everyone, I don't know w^hat I shall do. 
I shan't be responsible. If you have any kind- 
ness, any chivalry . . . Oh, for God's sake, 
Harold, help me, help me! 
{Kneels at his feet.] 

HAROLD 
I don't know . . . I'm horribly muddled . . . 
A\l right, I'll stayl 

ANNE 
Good! Good! Oh, you are fine! I knew you 
would be. Now everything will be so simple. 

[The vista opens before her.] 
We will be very quiet here for a couple of days. 
We won't see many people, for of course it 
isn't announced. And then you will go . . . 
and I will write you a letter . . . 

HAROLD 

[Disagreeably struck by the phrase.] 
Write me a letter? What for? 

ANNE 
[Ingenuously.] 
Telling you that I have been mistaken. Re- 
leasing you from the engagement . . . and you 
will write me an answer . . . sad but manly 
• . . reluctantly accepting my decision . . . 

HAROLD 

Oh, I am to write an answer, sad but manly — 
Good God! Suppose you don't release me after 
all! 

ANNE 
Don't be silly, Harold. I promise. Can't you 
trust me? 



30 ENTER THE HERO 

HAROLD 

Trust you? 

[His eyes travel quickly from the table littered 
luith letters and despatches to the floivers that 
ornament the room, back to the table and 
finally to the ring that noijj hangs conspicu- 
ously on her breast. She folloivs the look 
and instinctively puts her hand to the ring.] 

Trust you? By Jove, no, I don't trust youl 

This is absurd, I don't stay another moment. 

Say what you will to people. I'm off. This 

is final. 

ANNE 
[JVho has stepped to the ivindoiv.] 

You can't go now. I hear Mother and Ruth 

^°"^"^^- HAROLD 

All the more reason. 

[He finds his hat.] 
I bolt. 

ANNE 

[Blocking the door.] 
You can't go, Harold! Don't corner me. I'll 
fight like a wildcat if you do. 

HAROLD 
Fight? 

ANNE 
Yes. A pretty figure you'll cut if you bolt 
now. They'll think you a cad — an out and out 
cad! Haven't they seen your letters come 
week by week, and your presents? And you 
have written to Mother, too — I have your let- 
ter. There won't be anything bad enough to 
say about you. They'll say you jilted me 
for that English girl in Brazil. It will be true, 
too. And it will get about. She'll hear of it, 
I'll see to that — and then — 



THERESA HELBURN 31 

HAROLD 
But it's a complete lie! I can explain — 

ANNE 
You'll have a hard time explaining your letters 
and your presents — and 3'our ring. There's a 
deal of evidence against you — 

HAROLD 

See here, are you trying to blackmail me? 
Oh, this is too ridiculous! 

ANNE 
They're coming! I hear them on the stairs! 
What are you going to tell them? 

HAROLD 

The truth. I must get clear of all this. I 
tell you — 

_ ANNE 
[Suddenly dinging to him.] 
No, no, Harold! Forgive me, I was just test- 
ing you. I will get you out of this. Leave it 
to me. 

HAROLD 

[Struggling ivith her.] 
No, I won't leave anything to you, ever. 

ANNE 
[Still clinging tightly.] 
Harold, remember I am a woman — and I love 
you. 

[This brings him up short a momertt to <ivon- 
der, and in this moment there is a knock at 
the door.] 



32 ENTER THE HERO 

ANNE 
[Abandoning Harold.] 
Come in. 

[There is a discreet pause.] 

MRS. CAREY'S VOICE 
[Off stage.] 
May we come in? 

ANNE 
[Angrily.] 
Yesl 

[Harold, ivho has moved toivard the door, 
meets Mrs. Carey as she enters. She throivi 
her arms about his neck and kisses him 
ivarmly. She is followed by Ruth.] 

MRS. CAREY 
Harold! My dear boyl 

RUTH 
[Clutching his arm.] 
Hello. Harold. I am so glad. 

[Harold, temporarily overwhelmed by the on- 
slaught of the tivo women, is about to speak, 
when Anne interrupts dramatically.] 

ANNE 
Wait a moment, Mother. Before you say any- 
thing more I must tell you that Harold and 1 
are no longer engaged! 

[Mrs. Carey and Ruth draw away from Harold 
in horror-struck surprise.] 

MRS. CAREY 
No longer engaged? Why . . . What . . . ? 

HAROLD 
Really, Mrs. Carey, I — 



THERESA HELBURN 33 

ANNE 
[Interrupts, going to her mother.^ 
Mother, dear, be patient with me, trust me, I 
beg of you — and please, please don't ask me 
any questions. Harold and I have had a very 
hard — a very painful hour together. I don't 
think I can stand any more. 

[She is 'visibly very much exhausted, gasping 
for breath.] 

MRS. CAREY 
Oh, my poor child, what is it? What has he 
done? 

[She supports Anne on one side while Ruth 
hurries to the other.] 

HAROLD 
Really, Mrs. Carey, I think I can explain, 

ANNE 
No, Harold, there's no use trying to explain. 
There are some things a woman feels, about 
which she cannot reason. I know I am doing 
right. 

HAROLD 
[Desperately.] 
Mrs, Carey, I assure you — 

ANNE 
[As if on the verge of a nervous crisis.] 
Oh, please, please, Harold, don't protest any 
more. I am not blaming you. Understand, 
Mother, I am not blaming him. But my deci- 
sion is irrevocable. I thought you understood. 
I beg you to go away. You have just time to 
catch the afternoon express. 

HAROLD 
Nonsense, Anne, you must let me — 



34 ENTER THE HERO 

ANNE 

[Wildly.] 
No, no, Harold, it is finished! Don't you un- 
derstand? Finished! 

[She abandons the support of her mother and 
Ruth and goes to the table.] 
See, here are your letters. I am going to burn 
them. 

[She throvjs the packet into the fire.] 
All your letters — 

[She throivs the despatches into the fire.] 
Don't, please, continue tliis unendurable situa- 
tion any longer. Go, I beg of you, go! 

[She is almost hysterical.] 

HAROLD 
But I tell you I must — 

ANNE 
[Falling back in her mother's arms.] 
Make him go. Mother! Make him go! 

MRS. CAREY 
Yes, go! Go, sir! Don't you see you are tor- 
turing the child. I insist upon your going. 

RUTH 
Yes, she is in a dreadful state. 

[Here Mrs. Carey and Ruth fall into simul- 
taneous urging s.] 

HAROLD 

[Who has tried in vain to make himself heard.] 
All right, I'm going, I give up! 

[He seizes his hat and rushes out, banging 
the door behind him. Anne breaks away from 
her mother and sister, totters rapidly to the 
door and calls dovin gently.] 



THERESA HBLBURN 35 

ANNE 
Not in anger, I beg of you, Harold 1 I am not 
blaming you. Good-bye. 

[T/ie street door is heard to bang. Anne col- 
lapses in approved tragedy style.} 

ANNE 

[Gasping.] 
Get some water, Ruth. I shall be all right in 
a moment. 

[Ruth rushes into the bedroom.] 

MRS. CAREY 
Oh, my dear child, calm yourself. Mother is 
here, dear. She will take care of you. Tell 
me, dear, tell me. 

[Ruth returns iviik the water. Anne sips a 

little.] 

ANNE 
I will, mother — I will . . .everything . . . 
later. 

[She drinks.] 
But now I must be alone. Please, dear, go 
away . . . for a little while. I must be alone 

[Rising and mo-ving to the fire.] 
with the ruin of my dreams. 

[She puts her arms on the chimney shelf and 

drops her head on them.] 

RUTH 
Come, Motherl Come awayl 

MRS. CAREY 
Yes, I am coming. We shall be in the next 
room, Anne, when you want us. Right here. 

ANNE 
[As they go out, raises her head and mur- 
murs.] 



36 ENTER THE HERO 

Dust and ashes! Dust and ashes! 

[As soon as they have gone, Anne straightens 
up slotjoly. She pulls herself together after 
the physical strain of her acting. Then she 
looks at the 'watch on her ivrist and sighs 
a long triumphant sigh. Her eye falls 
on the desk and she sees the package of 
florist's cards still there. She picks them up, 
returns luith them to the fire and is about to 
throvj them in, ivhen her eye is caught by the 
ivriting on one. She takes it out and reads 
it. Then she takes another — and another. 
She stops and looks anxiay dreamily. Then 
slowly, she moves back to the desk, drops 
the cards into a drawer and locks it. She 
sits brooding at the desk and the open paper 
before her seems to fascinate her. As if in 
a dream she picks up a pencil. A creative 
look comes into her eyes. Resting her chin 
on her left hand, she begins slowly to write, 
murmuring to herself.^ 

ANNE 
[Reading as she writes.] 
"Anne, my dearest ... I am on the train . . . 
broken, shattered . . . Why have you done 
this to me . . . why have you darkened the 
sun. . . and put out the stars ... put out the 
stars . . . Give me another chance, Anne . . . 
I will make good ... I promise you . . . For 
God's sake, Anne, don't shut me out of your 
life utterly. . . I cannot bear it. . . . I . . ." 

THE CURTAIN 
has fallen slowly as she writes. 



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